The Director
by TheBreakfastGenie
Summary: What if Vance was given a message while he was unconscious between "Enemies Foreign," and "Enemies Domestic?"  Here is a slightly weird spin on it. Slight Jibbs implications. Not exactly supernatural but it could be seen that way. Directorly friendship!


DISCLAIMER: NCIS is not mine. If it was I wouldn't have to write this because Jenny would still be alive and Vance would just be an Assistant Director.

AN: This is not necessarily intended to flow perfectly with the canon of the episodes. It's just a little speculative thing that wouldn't leave me alone. I have always been a Jenny fan and a Jibbs fan, but I've also decided that Leon Vance is a nice and cool guy. However he's not as good as Jenny to me and this story really uses that concept.

SPOILER WARNING: "Enemies Foreign," "Enemies Domestic," and "Judgment Day," but nothing beyond the obvious for the last one.

REVIEW POLICY: I love getting reviews but I will not be angry if I don't get them. When I post stories for you to read it is because I want to, and you are not expected to do anything in return. If you would like to, though, or just have an opinion, I'm always open to it.

The Director

Leon Vance didn't realize history was repeating itself until he woke up. Right now, he was just dazed and unconscious. The room had just exploded and it was if time had frozen. He had no way to gather his thoughts. And then he had left the room, and he was sitting in his office. But instead of sitting behind his desk he was sitting in a chair in front of it, and his usual chair was occupied. Under normal circumstances this would probably be very bad, but he not only recognized the occupant, he knew that that person had at least as much of a right to sit in the director's chair as he did. No, probably more. It was a woman with red hair.

"What the hell are you doing here, Leon?" she asked him conversationally. Vance didn't want to answer her question. He just shifted uncomfortably. Their last meeting hadn't been very pleasant.

"Shepard, about the last time I saw you..." he started. Jenny laughed at him.

"Don't worry about it, Leon, you were just doing your job. God knows I understand what that's like. So, let's discuss your presence here, shall we? I will repeat my question. What the hell are you doing here, Director Vance?"

"I'm... not entirely sure yet. But I think I'm starting to form some ideas." It was all starting to come together. David. McAllister. Explosions. It vaguely reminded him of something. Surely he'd be able to sort it out later.

"Hm. You better not be thinking of sticking around," she ordered pointedly.

"Why not?" Vance asked her. It wasn't that he was really suicidal, he was just so damn tired. And surviving meant he'd have to figure out exactly what was going on and clean up the mess. This was the first time he'd really understood why Jenny had started looking so sick during her last year in the position.

"Because you actually have people to live for," she told him kindly. "Your children don't want to grow up without a daddy."

"And you didn't have someone to live for?" Leon asked. He'd always known Jenny as a lonely person but she'd definitely been hiding something.

"I had someone to die for," she replied firmly. There was no need to ask who. The conversation paused as Vance looked around the room. Suddenly, his eyes lighted upon the sofa. He stared at it, intently, for several minutes. If he had broken his focused curiosity for even a second to look up at his former boss he would have seen that she was smirking. Slowly he walked over and lifted off one of the cushions. It took him a moment, but he located an all but invisible slit in the seam.

"You could just get a sofa with removable cushion covers," he suggested dryly.

"That's not nearly classy enough for the director's office," Jenny joked. "Besides, I didn't pick that couch. Tom Morrow bought it a couple months before he left."

"So I'm the third director to have it?" Vance asked, amused. "At least you inherited it intact." He returned his attention to the item. The slit had been neatly cut, as if meant to do as little harm to the furniture as possible. He reached in gently, unsure if he was nervous about what he expected to find, or if he just wanted to spare his sofa and more damage. He hand finally hit something that didn't feel like the inside of a pillow. _Paper_ he though. He grabbed what felt like a stack of small slips of paper and pulled it out. Looking down at his hand Vance realized that he was actually holding two envelopes. They were neatly addressed and the flaps were tucked in but they weren't sealed. He walked over to Jenny's desk and set them down in front of her, looking at her purposefully.

"Took you long enough to find it, Leon," Jenny grinned.

"You did a pretty damn good job of hiding it, Shepard," he fired back. He had suspected Jenny would leave some sort of message behind, but he'd been searching the office for over two years and hadn't found it yet.

"I learned that in Europe," Jenny said, then a look of pain briefly passed over her features. She quickly cleared her mind of thoughts of Paris and her smile returned. "One you will keep, the other you will pass on," Jenny explained. "This one," she lifted the note on top, "is yours. This one," she set down the first note and picked up the second, "is not for your eyes. Understood?" Leon nodded once. "Good. You'll need to be heading back soon, Leon Vance," she informed him. Vance sighed. It was going to be difficult to clean up the situation, especially while he was recovering. And the job was stressful enough on ordinary days. "The agency needs you."

"I'm not you, Jenny," he told her, exhaustion creeping into his voice. Jenny had been an incredible director and an even better agent. No matter what he did he could never match her reputation, no matter how short her administration had been.

"No, you're not, but you're damn good," Jenny said seriously. "Besides, you've balanced it by being able to keep it up. I never took care of my own health, Leon. You have a life, and a family, and an agency. I loved that agency and there is no one I trust more to oversee it."

"You sure about that?" Vance joked. Jenny cracked a smile.

"While I may trust Gibbs more than anyone else, he is not director material. You are," she said. Vance stared at her for a long time and finally said,

"Alright, Jenny. Nice talking to you."

"Nice to see you too. And don't forget that little 'assignment,'" she added, reaching out to shake his hand. The next thing Vance knew, the office had vanished, and he was once again in the remains of a safehouse, this time conscious. He heard the door open and reached for his gun.

Leon Vance had returned to work just that morning. Considering he'd left Gibbs in charge, there had been a lot of catching up to do, and he'd finally found his first free moment. He went to the sofa and lifted out the right cushion, smiling when he found the barely perceptible cut on the left side. Vance carried the two envelopes to his desk, and noticing they were not sealed, opened the first one. He snorted as he read the last line. Then he reread a paragraph in the middle, and seeming satisfied, he set down the paper and picked up his phone. "Special Agent Gibbs, would yo come to my office please?" he asked.


End file.
